


There Are Worse Things

by Oxford Comma (shatterdame)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Bipolar Newt, Confessions, Fluff, Language, M/M, Mentions of self-harm, Post-Drift, blatant sappy fluff, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 03:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2176632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatterdame/pseuds/Oxford%20Comma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann picks up a new phrase and is forced to explain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Are Worse Things

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> This is my first fic ever... like e v e r. It's unbeta-ed so all the errors are from yours truly. I focused on Bi-polar Newt... I hope it's okay. Please feel free to leave comments or what have you. Any and all constructive criticism is encouraged!!!
> 
> Thanks guys :) xo

A test-tube shatters on Newton's side of the lab with a flourish.  
A small petri dish soon follows and Hermann turns just in time to watch a wobbling beaker kiss Newton's fingertips before it too is reduced to a hundred jagged shards on the lab floor.

"Shit!" Newton steps around the table, hands up as if bracing for another crash. He bends down to inspect the pile of glass.  
"FUCK." It seems to slowly dawn on him that several things have broken.  
"That was my brand new beaker!" He shouts at the floor. He looks up to see Hermann watching him.

"Brand fucking new,” he’s emphasizing. “You know how long it took the Marshall to approve of another shipment of labware -- all that shit about the budget we don't have." With a huff, Newton turns away. His hands go up and start to aggressively run back and forth over his scalp. His neck is flushing red while he's tugging and pulling and Hermann wonders vaguely if Newton would go so far as to tear it out. Hermann answers his own question, forgetting his cane beside the desk and closing the distance.

"I'm so fucking-- I'm so stupid. I'm a fucking idiot I am a goddamn fucking - " 

Hermann's fingers slowly curl around his wrists, freezing Newton in place. He slowly guides his hands up and away from his head and holds him there as if he's about to pat him down. Hermann’s not entirely sure where this impulse was leading. He stands and breathes, hoping Newton’s body knows where to take it from here.  
After the initial charged moment passes, Newton's huffing begins to slow into a regular pattern and he relaxes fractionally against Hermann's grasp and Hermann collapses forward over Newton’s left shoulder in a moment relief. He suddenly remembers where he is and scrambles to pull himself away. His leg gives a quick twinge and he pauses, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them, his mouth is at Newton’s ear. He can see the scar of an old, healed piercing in his cartilage, his breath drifting over his earlobe. Goosebumps slowly rise on Newton's neck. Hermann looks down to see the glass under his feet. His foot shifts with a crack.

"There are worse things, Newton."

He releases his grasp, finger by finger, and they both turn to switch their positions. Hermann limps back to his desk and sighs, bone deep. He feels Newton staring at his back, but he does not turn - he only leans a little heavier on the table and squeezes the edge.

"The broom is in the corner."

 

***

Newton is pure kinetic energy.  
He's been racing around the lab since 4AM - and that's assuming he ever went to bed.  
Hermann's been watching him from his chalkboard, pretending to mull over an equation while he traced Newton's path around the room. He can't decide whether or not he should be concerned, knowing Newton's been stuck in a low for a few weeks and is just now chasing the tail of an upswing.  
He knows he's been taking his medication - sees him pop the little round things into his first sickeningly sweet coffee of the day and suck it down. All Hermann can really do now is try to keep him out of trouble and talk him out of replicating DNA at midnight. He's forceful when it comes to Newton's meds and his overall safety, but after weeks of near lifelessness Hermann finds it hard to be too restrictive. Last Tuesday he watched Newton drop his specimens one by one into the trash so today, when he drips some Kaiju Blue on his side of the lab, he doesn't complain.

Hermann is coming down the ladder when he sees Newton spinning the radio's volume dial to max. He starts bobbing his head to the beat of some rock band Hermann can't remember the name of, latex gloves still on but glasses off. He's just started strumming his air guitar when he whips around to spot Hermann on the second-to-last-rung of the ladder - smirking. He knows he shouldn't fuel the fire, but.  
But, but, but.

Newton is nothing if not easily encouraged. He begins to strut around the side of the table, straightening his shirt.

"Clean shirt, new shoes, and I don't know where I am goin' to..." Newton raises an eyebrow as a kind of challenge. Before Hermann can turn him down however, he’s slinking forward.

"Silk suit, black tie, I don't need a reason why..." He looks down at the scrap of fabric and tugs on it, arching his head back and exposing his neck. Hermann begins chuckling in spite of himself, eyeing Newton's bobbing Adam's apple. Hermann is startled from his daydreaming when Newton grabs the ladder.

"...they come runnin' just as fast as they can..."  
He’s pulling himself up, doing an exaggerated lip sync with his eyes squeezed shut and nose nearly brushing Hermann's sweater-vest. His laugh catches in his throat.

"...'cause every girl's crazy bout a sharp dressed man."  
When Newton opens his eyes, he's grinning like a smug tom cat. His hair is mussed but not tugged-on - for which Hermann is silently thankful. His collar is unbuttoned, his tie is askew and the Kaiju below his breastbone is slyly peeking up at him. It shimmers as Newton’s chest rises and falls. Hermann imagines if he ran his finger along his collarbone, it would come away stained with ink. His eyes jump upwards to catch Newton’s gaze and he revels in the happiness he’s radiating. He grins and suddenly they're both laughing and Hermann wishes this were permanent.  
He mourns this Newton when the other takes residence, wonders how this could be the same Newton who forgets to smile for 48 hours and whose menacing tattoos seem to hibernate on particularly dreary days. He feels a pang of guilt for separating the two halves, berates himself for not accepting all of him as he is. He sends the thought away with a shake of his head and decides to enjoy the moment of shared bliss they’ve created in such a dismal world.  
They’re still for a glorious minute, taking each other in. Newton starts to lean slightly to the left and Hermann is intrigued. It is only for a moment however, since Newton leans too far and sends them both tumbling to the lab floor.

Newton, having been a rung underneath Hermann, takes the brunt of the fall landing on his back with a hollow thud before Hermann comes sprawling across his front.  
"Whoa... dude are you alright?!?!" Newton is dazed and his arms are outstretched. He’s looking back and forth from his hands to Hermann as if unsure of whether or not he should touch.  
"Yes- yes I'm fine. Did you hit your head?" Hermann is immediately concerned about whether Newton’s skull took the impact and begins lifting his head from the concrete.  
Newton blinks away his confusion as Hermann's fingers are carding through the hair between his ears and prodding his head lightly.  
"No... no I landed... uh... I landed right on my back. Knocked the wind out of me, but... but yeah I'm fine. Are you okay? Man I'm so sorry that was totally my fault! I didn't have my glasses on I didn't know how far the floor was and I just…” Newton’s eyes widen and he’s scrambling onto his elbows when he looks at their position.  
“I'm sorry oh my god your leg..."  
Hermann waits to confirm there’s no injury to Newton’s skull before allowing himself to laugh.  
He's shaking Newton’s body with the force of it, front pressed entirely along Newton's with his thumbs cradling his temples. Newton looks confused and starts nervously chuckling in response.  
"Ha...so...so you're okay? Doesn't this...doesn't this hurt your leg, I mean..."  
Hermann's laughter tapers off and he's gazing down at Newton's worried eyebrows. His thumbs venture bravely to gently smooth them out, like the dog-eared pages in his math books. He attempts what he hopes is a comforting smile and takes a deep breath.  
"There are worse things."

****

When Hermann rounds the corner to stare down the hallway leading to the KScience division, the first thing he sees is Newton. His back is to him and he's facing Hermann's chalkboard. It appears he's dragged it into the middle of the room, straddling the "line" between their two respective sides of the lab. He's caught in the beams of two lamps that sit on their opposing desks and he is glowing. His white button-down is blinding, a stark contrast to the dark mop of hair that looks rather tame for a Friday night. Hermann smiles fondly and moves forward a few paces before stopping again. Hermann's leg sends up a flare of pain while he re-evaluates. The air seems thicker - the atmosphere weighing heavy on his aching joints. Newton is framed in a vignette and Hermann worries about what he’ll find on the fringes.  
Upon closer inspection he notices the lab is clean - pristine even - and he’s officially paranoid. Hermann has always respected Newton’s borderline obssesive-compulsive organization, regardless of the fact that a mug on the couch does not necessarily fit his definition of tidy - but this is not Newton's organization. If anything, this is Hermann's stark composition - his perfect lab with towering stacks of paper and all writing utensils to the left - and it feels entirely wrong. He leans heavier on his cane.  
"Newton?"  
Newton is stock still - statuesque. He doesn't react at all to Hermann and as a result, he almost leaps forward to check for a pulse.  
"Newton? Newton are you alright?" His continued lack of response has Hermann rounding the table. Newton is staring blindly up at his equations, unblinking. He’s still staring upwards when he opens his mouth.

"Why do you say it?"  
"Why do I say what, Newton?"  
Newton finally turns and Hermann feels sick.  
"'There are worse things'. You say it all the time." His eyes are near black and sunk inwards against his red, inflamed cheeks. He appears to be holding something, but Hermann can't see.  
"I just don't understand what could be worse than this." Newton's emotions start clawing back to the surface, sending a tremor through his body with their power. Hermann hooks his cane discreetly on the table. He can see now it’s a scalpel in his hand as it begins to catch the light, adding exclamation points to Newton’s declarations as he gesticulates.  
"What could be worse than this feeling - this lack of feeling? I’m lost. I can’t even look at my experiments - I’m crying over broken glass. It’s the end of the world for Chrissake and I can’t even get out of bed. " Newton aims his frustrations at the chalkboard, looking angry that it's given him no answers. Hermann’s chest aches. Several times he has thought Newton was about to punch something when he started crying instead. Before it even begins, Hermann decides he’s had enough.

"Do you have an equation for this, Dr. Gottlieb,” Newton spits. “Do you have an equation that'll explain why I'm such a fucking mess - "  
"Newton." He slams his palm down on the metal counter top. Newton's head whips around, looking as if he’s been slapped. Hermann reaches out his reddened hand.  
"Give me the scalpel and I'll tell you."

Newton looks down as if he'd forgotten - Hermann isn't fooled. He lifts his arm listlessly and hands him the tool, nonchalantly looking in the opposite direction as if passing him the morning paper. Hermann promptly tosses it onto the table with barely concealed disgust. He doesn’t pause to see if he’s listening.

"I'm sure you're familiar with the Multiverse theory," Hermann begins, detached. Newton nods infinitismally, most likely as a balm to his ego.

"Yes, well. The idea of infinite universes - complete within themselves and independent of our own - seems like something you’d prattle on about till dawn.”

Newton doesn't waver and Hermann spurs on.

"Personally, I don't find the idea particularly appealing - in fact I am reminded nightly of just how much I disagree with the principle.”

Newton fidgets.

"I wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat... toss and turn for hours afterwards.... consider knocking on your door an hour before dawn..." Hermann is getting caught up in his memory and for once it's Newton who’s the impatient audience member. He shifts, moving slightly away from him.

"It's a reoccuring nightmare, Hermann. You probably picked it up from me in the drift. It'll go away eventually."

"No - no, Newton it won't - listen to me!" He reaches out at the last minute to catch Newton's open hand, squeezing it a little too hard.

"I cannot rationalize a memory. I am not creating universes Newton, you are." Newton blinks a few times and his breathing picks up. He’s trying to be angry, trying to think of something to defend himself. Hermann cuts him off at the pass.

"You drifted with a Kaiju and left me to find you - with only an upsetting recording as explanation." 

Newton’s face falls, guilt bleeding through.  
"Man, if you're still upset about that - ." Instinctively, Hermann pulls Newton closer, an admonition in his affection.

"Newton I am not upset -" Hermann realizes he is shaking, Newton's hand taking on his tremor. He breathes and tries to calm himself before continuing.

"I am bothered - or rather plagued by the insinuation that somewhere there is a universe - or multiple universes - where I am not there. Perhaps I do not leave the mess hall in time - perhaps your calculations were wrong or god forbid you piled on one too many pieces of garbage…. Newton, if I wasn’t there to pull the PONS off of you I just don’t know….”

Something ignites in Newton. His breathing catches and his eyes are glossing over and Hermann is chasing after it. His priorities redistribute and he gives up on propriety entirely. He allows his hands to cup Newton's face, his thumbs resting on his cheekbones. His fingers alight under his jaw, nudging it fractionally upward.

"I thought that perhaps if we just kept working together in our old lab, bickering as we always did, that it would be enough but…. Newton, you must know. Surely, you must know."

Newton's body starts to shake as he starts to cry. Hermann swipes at the rivulets streaming from his lenses and moves to press his lips to Newton's forehead. He keeps Newton's jaw tightly tucked under him and when it appears he isn't going to move, Newton's hands move to grasp at the back of his jacket.

"Oh what am I to do with you, Newton,” He murmurs against his skin. 'You are a maddening, hyperactive, human puzzle - and if I have to spend the rest of my days picking up your pieces, so be it.

Newton lets out a sob and his legs buckle bringing Hermann with him to the floor. He removes Newton’s glasses and when his hands come up to scrub at his face, Hermann bats them softly away. He runs a soothing hand through his hair before pressing their foreheads together. 

"I know it's hard for you darling, but please let me in. Not knowing, Newton, is so much worse."

He swears he can feel Newton's mind reaching out to him and he thinks he could simulate a drift - right here, right now, on the dirty cement floor of their shared lab - with sheer willpower. He thinks he could be hallucinating, but he feels better. He feels better than he has in a long time. His leg doesn't hurt for the first time in years and Newton's skin feels like tiny explosions under his fingertips. His face is in his hair and Hermann can smell the forests of Germany. Newton’s shaking has transitioned into a gentle shivering and he’s started pawing absently at Hermann’s favorite vest like cotton candy. 

“Liebling, let’s get you somewhere warmer, hm? 

“If I’d known a mental breakdown would get me pet names, I would’ve had one sooner.”


End file.
